


three thousand words

by gardencherries, starksnack



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Engineer Tony Stark, Homework, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Steve Rogers, Photography, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardencherries/pseuds/gardencherries, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack
Summary: A picture is worth a thousand words and if Steve Rogers wants to pass Photography 101, he needs to take three to tell the story of Tony Stark, the cute guy in his French class. Cue adorable awkwardness, drunken shenanigans, and the struggle of being a broke college student. Comes with a free sprinkle of horrible puns and a side order of fries.Also known as: the author is going to be in college this fall and has no clue what to expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the CapBB.  
Thanks to [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andathousandyearsmore/pseuds/andathousandyearsmore) for the alpha and beta read!

It’s just one of  _ those _ days. Steve races across the quad, breath coming out in heavy pants as he sprints toward the photo room. Startled students jump out of the way as he passes by, his backpack thumping painfully against his back.

His alarm hadn’t gone off and his roommate Sam hadn’t bothered to wake him up. Late and annoyed, he’d opted to get dressed instead of stopping by the dining hall, a decision for which his stomach growls something fierce.

Steve skids to a stop in front of the classroom door right as his professor is about to close it, his brows raise at Steve’s state of disarray. Steve is pretty sure his pink dress shirt is buttoned up wrong and his slacks are an ugly shade of green that clashes horribly with his blond hair. With a sheepish smile, he steps into the room and claims the last empty seat at the back of the room, slumping into his chair as a couple of other students turn to look at him curiously. He forces a grin, shooting them a friendly wave.

“Good morning class,” his professor addresses them all, his deep voice somehow stern and teasing at the same time. His eyes dart sharply around the room as he boots up the projector. The machine whirs to life with a sputter as he readjusts his tie—a purple masterpiece with green dinosaurs on it—before sweeping his hands out. “I hope you all had a good morning,” his eyes settle on Steve with a grin, “some of you more than most.” The computer makes an obnoxiously loud noise and Steve winces as his professor smirks, “Let’s get this party started.” 

Professor Phil Sheldon is one of those teachers that never really left his youth. He’s a retired photojournalist, persistent in his pursuit of the truth even now, years after leaving the industry. Somehow he finds the strength to be energetic and enthusiastic at eight in the morning despite the greying in his hair and his joints that click with every movement. Professor Sheldon always has a kind smile, though he’s very firm about not letting students into the room after the class has already started. It’s no secret that Steve wants to be him when he grows up.

Steve pulls his laptop out of his bag, powering it on and clicking over to the syllabus on the professor’s website. A text from Sam pops up on his screen.  _ Are you awake yet sleepy beauty? _

Resisting the urge to growl, Steve shoots back an annoyed  _ got to class on time, no thanks to you, meatball. _

Sheldon is saying something about a major project when Steve tunes back in, blinking the room into focus. “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Professor Sheldon pauses as if for dramatic effect. “You get three pictures to tell a story.” Steve navigates back to the professor’s main website, finding the description for the assignment. “The only catch is that you need to work with someone you’ve never met before outside of this class. You need to tell me a story about them.”

The students around him let out a collective groan as Steve wracks his brain for someone who would agree to something like this. As captain of the varsity football team, Steve isn’t a total wallflower, but he also much prefers to spend his time painting landscapes in his dorm rather than partying hard with the rest of his friends. He could probably ask Bucky for some recommendations.

“Also, did I forget to mention that you need to write a three thousand word story about what your pictures convey?” Professor Sheldon grins at the slumped shoulders and dejected expressions around the room. “If you’ll direct your attention to the projector, I can show you some examples from past years.”

Steve tunes back out as he reads through the assignment rubric again, spinning a pen between his fingers. At the bottom of the rubric, fine print outlines extra credit if Steve and whoever he picks manage to pass a game of Know Your Partner. Steve has never played before, but a quick google search tells him that it’s a game where you have to answer trivial questions about your partner accurately.

A growl cuts into Steve’s thoughts and a couple of heads turn in his direction as he rubs his stomach. He smiles sheepishly at his classmates. He’ll head to the dining hall after class.

“Hey,” the guy sitting in front of Steve whispers, turns around fully in his seat. His brown eyes are amused and Steve thinks his name might be Peter. He takes really good photos for the school newspaper. He’s probably the best despite being a freshman. “Take this,” he thrusts a granola bar at Steve. There’s a wry smile stretched across his face. “Anything to make the dying dinosaur in your stomach stop.”

“Thank you.” Steve blushes, unwrapping the granola bar and biting into it.

His jaw aches as he chews, excited to finally have food in his stomach. It settles warmly in his tummy and he goes back to thinking about what to do for his project. It would be nice to capture a blossoming relationship.

Lost in thought Steve realizes someone had taken the time to draw a flaccid penis on the desk he’s sitting at. He finds himself absentmindedly fingering the lines with a frown as he wracks his brain for someone he could take pictures of. Someone willing to play the extra credit game with Steve. They would have to be vain, intelligent, competitive, and interesting.

There’s a really popular cute guy in his French class that he hasn’t yet had the chance to speak to—shit. Steve’s brows shoot up as he digs into his bag for his notebook. He totally forgot to finish his weekly culture assignment for that course.

As he flips to the page in his notebook his heart sinks in his chest. He needs the textbook to complete the assignment and he hadn’t gotten one at the beginning of the year in order to save money. Whenever there’s an assignment that requires the use of the book, he borrows the one at the library, sitting in the stacks, eating a croissant, and pretending to be French. It’s too last minute to guarantee that he won’t have to share the book with a dozen other students attempting to complete the assignment at the last minute.

The moment Professor Sheldon dismisses the class, Steve’s booking it to the library, sprinting across the quad and through a dismayed group of foreign exchange students who shout at him in Italian. Steve doesn’t have time to stop and enjoy the lush green trees their leaves spotted with flecks of orange as he vaults up the library steps scaring the shit out of a flock of pigeons. 

Shit! Steve gets into the library right as a dark-haired boy is signing the textbook out and sliding it off the shelf, jabbering excitedly at the librarian as they head toward a study room in the back. Steve speed walks to catch up with them and double shit, it’s cute guy from French class.

His glasses are perched adorably on his nose, hair a messy mop of curls on his head. He’s wearing a large light wash denim jacket, the sleeves coming past his fingertips. Their eyes meet and an embarrassing shiver runs down Steve’s spine. Though they run in different circles, Steve can see why he’s popular.

“Hi?” Cute guy raises his eyebrows as Steve falls into step beside them. His wide brown eyes are framed by dark lashes as he looks Steve up and down with a raised eyebrow. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“My name is Steve—”

“Hi my name is Steve, it’s nice to meet you,” cute guy cuts in with a shit-eating grin as they stop outside the study room so the librarian can unlock it. Cute guy pushes his dark brown curls out of his eyes, the motion raising his shirt and holy shit are those abs? Steve desperately tries not to drool over his classmate. “What can I do for you?” 

“We’re in the same French 103 class and I was wondering if we could share the textbook? I haven’t finished last night’s assignment.” Steve plasters on his best award-winning smile, blue eyes pleading with cute guy.

“Sure thing.” Cute guy thanks the librarian before ushering Steve in before him and closing the door shut behind them. There is a soft snick as the locking mechanism slides into place and a shiver races down Steve’s spine. “I hope you understand the unit we’re in because I have no clue what’s going on. My name is Tony, by the way.”

Tony is such a pretty name that Steve forgets to actually respond to him, nodding dumbly instead with a dreamy smile on his face. Tony is a name he can vow to someday if things go well. Oh god, it’s too early to be thinking thoughts like that.

The place smells like old books with just the faintest scent of wood varnish that has Steve wrinkling his nose. There’s a wooden table in the middle of the room surrounded by chairs and Tony pulls up a seat like he owns the place, setting his book bag on the floor beside him.

With a sigh, Steve drops down into the chair beside him, cracking open the textbook and flipping to the correct page. “This unit is about conditional verbs,” Steve explains pulling his notebook out of his bag. Their assignment is to write a series of if statements. “ _ If I forget to do my homework, I should ask the cute guy at the library to share a textbook. _ ”

Tony nods along with Steve’s stilted French, a smirk pulling at his lips, “ _ If I ask you out on a date, you will fall madly in love with me. _ ”

A bubble of laughter escapes Steve’s lips as he grins at Tony. He doesn’t know why he said he needed help; Tony’s French is perfect, the words confidently flowing from his pen. Steve tears his gaze away from Tony’s warm brown eyes to focus on his paper. “You’ve already got the hang of it.”

Steve scribbles down a couple of sentences on his paper as the room lapses into silence. His eyes stray to Tony’s paper a couple of times, but he can’t read the brunet’s writing from this angle so he gives up after a couple of tries, focusing on his own work.

_ If Sam forgets to wake me up in the morning, I will show up to class looking like a crayon box had its way with me in the dumpster. _

_ If Headmaster Fury wore another eyepatch, he wouldn’t be able to see me streak naked across the stadium at the next football game. _

_ If Madame Masque gave us a test on conditional verbs, I would fail and die a fiery death at the hands of my grades. _

Steve is trying to come up with his final sentence when it happens. A thump against the wall has both their heads shooting up and pink spreads across Steve’s cheeks at the muffled groan that follows it. He holds still, pencil clutched in his white-knuckled grip as an unmistakable moan comes through the thin wall and Tony smothers an adorable laugh in his elbow.

Coming up with another sentence at this point is impossible. The rhythmic thumping is throwing him off. French may be the language of love, but there is some love that Steve absolutely does not want to hear.

“Seriously?” Tony stands, pushing his notebook into his bag and closing up the textbook. “It’s literally ten in the morning, how horny do you need to be to get some at the library of all places?”

“We can always head to class early,” Steve shrugs as he follows Tony out of the study room with a shudder. “Do you think you could look over my sentences before I turn them in?”

“Sure thing,” Tony nods as he hands the book to the librarian, signing it back in.

Together they turn to the exit, stepping out into the cool fall air. Steve tilts his head into the sun as they make their way to the Foreign Language building closer to the end of the campus. They’re almost to the classroom door when Steve remembers his photography assignment. “Hey can I ask you another favour?”

“If you keep asking me for favours I’m gonna have to start charging you.” Tony grins at him from under lashes a mile long, playfully nudging his shoulder.

Ducking his head, Steve blushes, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “I have this photography assignment where I have to take three pictures of someone I don’t know and I would love to get to know you better.”

“Sounds like something I’d be interested in.” Tony’s smile is adorable as they head into the classroom, dropping into seats beside each other. “Now, let’s see those sentences.”

Steve fishes his notebook out of his backpack, scrawling down one last sentence,  _ if you asked me out for burgers and a movie, I would say yes. _ He passes it down to Tony.

There’s one sentence where he used the wrong case of the verb etre, rookie mistake, but it’s an easy fix. Tony grins looking up at Steve as his fingers skim over the last one. “This one?” He taps the third one about Headmaster Fury’s second eyepatch. “Do I need to go to the next football game?”

“I guess you’ll just have to come and find out,” Steve responds awkwardly, his cheeks betraying him with a deep scarlet flush.

“You got me intrigued.” Digging into his bookbag, Tony pulls out a sparkly pink pen, uncapping it with his teeth. Grabbing hold of Steve’s hand, he scrawls his number down his arm. “Now you know how to find me.”

Madame Masque walks in with a steaming mug of black coffee and calls for everyone’s attention at the front. Steve takes his notebook back from Tony, their fingers brushing and sending tantalizing shivers down his spine. Throughout the whole class, Steve has to force himself to stop turning his head to look at Tony. The glitter on his arm keeps drawing his attention and before long, he has the ten numbers memorised.

The moment Steve gets out of class, he types Tony’s number into his phone, scared to lose it even though they’re burned into the back of his eyelids. He goes to football practice and runs drills, the glitter on his arm attracting stares and whispers. Every time he catches it glinting in the sun, a ridiculous smile takes over his features and he has to look down at his cleats.

Steve tries not to vibrate with excitement every time he thinks about Tony over the course of the next day, but it’s nearly impossible to keep the snarky brunet from his mind. As Steve has his morning coffee, he finds himself staring into the murky liquid remembering warm eyes and a kind smile. Walking through the windy quad he recalls the soft sigh on Tony’s lips as he fell into step beside Steve. Finally, early in the afternoon with the sounds of Sam and his boyfriend making out behind him as he tries to study, Steve has enough. 

_ [3:02pm] Are you free right now? _

_ [3:03pm] It’s Steve _

_ [3:03pm] from French class _

With his heart in his throat, Steve presses send, waiting for a response. He taps his fingers against his desk, looking out the window of his dorm room. It’s only been a day since he last saw Tony, maybe it’s too soon to be sending him text messages. His photography assignment isn’t due until the end of the month.

“Dude, chill out,” Sam pipes up from behind him, feigned annoyance leaking into his tone.

Steve turns in his swivel chair to face Sam fully. “Easy for you to say, you’re not waiting for a hot guy to text you back.”

“That’s because I’m sitting right here,” Bucky speaks up from where he’s sprawled across Sam’s lap to get his hair braided.

Rolling his eyes at his two best friends, Steve moves to plop down beside Sam with a groan. He glares at his phone, sitting on his desk with no notifications, taunting him. “I need relationship advice.”

“Well,” Bucky grins sitting up as Sam pins up his dutch braid crown., “I know this punk, real softie. He’s the kind of guy who can charm the pants out of just about anyone, even before he got big and buff. Why don’t you ask him for relationship advice?”

“That was shitty advice.” Steve flops down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. As a joke, Bucky had taped up a grinning picture of himself above Sam’s bed. He wants a relationship like theirs. They had the sort of ease that came with being married for years and a youth which led to practical jokes and stolen kisses that made Steve teasingly tell them to get a room. There is nothing Steve wants more than to share that kind of relationship with somebody. He would love if that person were Tony.

As if on cue, Steve’s phone buzzes and he shoots up, scrambling to grab it off his desk. Bucky’s faster than him, shoving Steve backward to make it to the desk first.

“It worked,” Bucky grabs Steve’s phone, unlocking it. “He wants to go out with you for coffee. You’re welcome.”

Bucky tosses the phone to Steve and he grabs it out of the air, looking down at the screen to confirm what Bucky had said.

_ [3:36pm] steve from french class? i was expecting a different hot guy. goes by my name is steve _

_ [3:37pm] i am free right now if it involves coffee _

Steve reads the texts with a grin across his face changing Tony’s name in his phone from “Tony from French” to “Sassmaster Tony.”

“Where do I take him for coffee?” Steve asks Bucky and Sam who are back to cuddling and ignoring Steve’s existence. Sam’s deft fingers are already undoing the braid crown to tug on Bucky’s hair and Steve rolls his eyes.

“The Pawfect Cup,” Sam mumbles from around Bucky’s mouth. “They have cats.”

Steve’s always wanted to go so he quickly texts the location to Tony, grabbing his book bag and his camera. He grimaces at Bucky and Sam getting cosy, glad that he has an excuse to leave. “Don’t be gross,” he calls out behind him as he closes the door. They probably won’t listen. Steve just hopes they stay far away from his bed.

It’s a ten-minute walk to the cafe, and Tony is already waiting for him when he arrives. He’d picked a seat in the back facing the door and he grins as Steve walks in, brushing his dishwater blond hair out of his face. As he’s walking to the table, Steve almost trips over a cat, too busy focusing on Tony. He’s beautiful, hair a mess and glasses perched atop his head as he strokes a black cat in his lap.

“Took you long enough,” Tony looks up through his lashes as Steve takes the seat across from him. He carefully lifts the cat off his lap, kisses it behind the ears, and shoves it in Steve’s direction. “You keep Mr. Snuggles warm and I will go get us coffee.”

With that, Tony stands, cat hair clinging to his dark wash denim jeans. There’s no hope for his blue cable knit sweater, long enough to brush his thighs, the sleeves coming down to the tips of his fingers. He makes a futile attempt to push his sleeves up to his elbows the fabric quickly falling back down to swallow up his arms.

“Okay?” Steve accepts the grumpy cat, brows raised. He watches Tony cross the shop to the counter as Mr. Snuggles crawls his way up Steve’s shirt, pulling holes into his maroon sweater. “Do you think he likes me?” Steve whispers reaching up to scratch the cat under his chin. Mr. Snuggles hisses in response and Steve nods in agreement. “You’re right, I definitely think he’s pawfect.”

Steve tilts his head back and Mr. Snuggles purrs contently at the warmth of Steve’s neck. Another cat comes running toward them with jingling tags and Steve’s eyes widen as he’s literally pounced on. Bucky said it would happen, what with his growth spurt and there being more of Steve to pounce on, but Steve hadn’t believed him until now. With a lap full of cat, he’s totally pinned in place.

“You get jumped?” Tony grins as he walks up with two steaming mugs of coffee topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. He sets them both down on the table and leans over to pet the grey tabby in Steve’s lap. “Me too buddy.”

“Thank you,” Steve takes a sip of his coffee, surprise crossing his features when it tastes exactly how he likes it. His brows furrow as he looks up at Tony questioningly.“This is perfect.”

“It’s my special talent,” Tony replies taking his seat and taking a sip from his own mug.

Steve loses himself in his coffee and petting the grey tabby in his lap—his tag says his name is Dog—when he looks back up, Tony has an adorable whipped cream mustache across his upper lip and Steve is sure he has one to match. Steve grabs a napkin from the holder at the same time Tony does, reaching across the table to swipe at the cream. He feels Tony’s mouth curve into a smile beneath his fingertips as he wipes the food off his face.

“So,” Tony’s laughter dies down, dark gaze meeting Steve’s. Breath catching in his throat, Steve meets his eyes, desire swirling in his belly and sinking into his hips as he waits for Tony to speak. “Your assignment is to get to know someone better and take pictures?”

“Three pictures to tell a story.” Steve nods, pulling his notebook out of his bag. He flips to a clean page, clicking his mechanical pencil. “And also, if we can pass a game of Know Your Partner we both get extra credit. My professor would just need to speak to your English teacher.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tony shrugs. His face lights up as another cat, a long-haired white beauty, paws at his legs, begging to be picked up. Once he has the cat in his lap, he turns back to Steve. “What were you thinking of using to tell the story? Is there a specific requirement?”

“I was thinking maybe flowers?” Steve scratched the back of his head, watching Tony’s face carefully to try and tell if he likes the idea or not. They’re not close enough for his expressions to be anything but inscrutable, but at least there isn’t outright disagreement broadcasted on his features.

Tony sets down his empty mug, steepling his fingers in front of him. He has an insanely attractive pensive face, Steve thinks.“That’s a good idea, you can take three different pictures of flowers in different stages of life. Like the bud, when it’s first starting to open up and then the flower fully in bloom. Like a metaphor for a budding friendship.”

“You’re totally right,” Steve nods along as the idea starts to take flesh in his head. “We could find flowers that mean friendship too. So the message is totally clear to Professor Sheldon.”

Flipping to a fresh page in his notebook, Steve begins sketching out a rough outline of how he wants the pictures to look, noting down key elements in each picture to unify the triptych.

“It would be really cool if we could integrate the flowers into the pictures instead of just me holding them.” Tony taps his chin as he thinks, fingers stroking across the cat in his lap. If he wasn’t so adorable, Steve would probably think he looks more like an evil supervillain. All he needs is a high wingback chair.

“We could start with a flower in your hand, but then move to them beginning to bloom in the pocket of your jeans or your jacket, and then finally have a flower crown on your head.” Steve scribbles down the idea on the page, his handwriting cramped as he tries to fit all the details on one page.

“Yes! It could kind of be like how new friends start out as someone you keep at arm’s length. But then, as you get to know someone better, you integrate them into your life.” Tony taps at Steve’s drawing, “maybe switch these two,” he points to the last two drawings. “Because you keep your friends in your thoughts before you hold them close to your heart.”

A server comes by to take both of their empty cups and that’s when Steve realizes that the cafe is about to close and the sun is sinking lower on the horizon, eyelids droopy as the sky starts to dim.

“You probably need to get back to your dorm.” Steve gives the cats sitting on him a quick pat before standing up and tucking his chair in. He carefully pulls Sir Dog and Mr. Cuddles off of him, depositing them on the cat tree by their table.“Can I walk you back?”

“Yeah,” Tony nods giving the cat in his lap a kiss on the head before passing by Steve and heading toward the door. “I live on the other side of campus, though. In Walker.”

“Me too,” he replies, distractedly waving the cats goodbye. Steve follows Tony out the door and into the brisk air, grateful that he had chosen to wear a sweater. He finds himself gravitating closer to Tony as he shivers.

The silence between them is comfortable as they fall into step beside each other. Steve looks out across the quad, the setting sun throwing beautiful shades of purple and pink into the darkening blue sky. They cross the square quickly, hands shoved deep into pockets to warm trembling fingers. Tony’s shoulders are hunched to shield his neck from the wind with the collar of his popped jacket. Steve already know his cheeks are red with the lipstick of the wind’s kiss.

Their dorm comes into view, a tall building of glimmering glass and brown brick that fits perfectly into the city’s archaic facade. The windows are lit up with students in their dorms for the night, a couple in the neon colours of LED strips. Steve can’t help but smile at a huge sign in the window of a lower floor that says ‘full send’ in bright orange sticky notes.

Steve holds the door open for Tony, ushering him into the warmth of the lobby. He follows him in with a warm sigh, rubbing his hands together as they tap their student IDs to the building security desk. 

“I’ll see you?” Tony asks as they get into the elevator for their building, the numbers climbing to their floors.

“Yeah,” Steve grins, excitement blooming in his chest as Tony steps out onto his floor, walking backwards so he can keep eye contact with Steve until the doors close after him.

The smile is glued to his face for the rest of the night.

***

It’s a couple of days later that Steve sees Tony again in their French class. He’s a lot better dressed this time in a grey henley he knows shows off his arms and tight jeans that fit his legs like a glove. He’s not going to admit that he dressed up with Tony in mind, but he totally did.

Tony slumps into his seat, looking the complete opposite of put together, a couple of seconds before Madame Masque is calling for attention at the front of the room. He’s drowning in an Air Force hoodie that’s a few sizes too big. Steve tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring as he studies Tony out of the corner of his eye. There’s no way the hoodie is his, it’s well loved, worn at the hem with a small hole in the elbow. Whoever it belongs to is much bigger than Tony.

Steve tunes back into the room just as Madame Masque is announcing a partner project. Everyone has to find someone to work with and Steve’s ego is a little bit inflated when Tony turns to look at him first, silent agreement crossing their features.

Their task is to do research on a French-speaking part of the world that isn’t France and present it to the class. There are places drawn out of a hat and somehow they get assigned Canada, and Tony whirls to face him, excited about some crazy national food called Poutine.

Honestly, it sounds like an oppressive leadership regime but Tony shows him pictures and it just looks like a disgusting mess of fries, gravy, and cheese. Steve is not entirely sure he wants to put that concoction in his body and his football coach would probably say the same, but Tony’s shining eyes and wide smile are convincing enough that he agrees to make it for their project.

Madame Masque gives them the rest of the class to work and Tony pulls out his laptop, setting it on the table between them before leaning into Steve’s space so they can both see the screen.

A couple of clicks later, Tony finds a website about Bonhomme, a crazy winter festival that includes ice castles, a giant snowman and naked Quebecois rolling around in the snow. Tony seems pretty excited about that last one and his grin is infectious as Steve reads over his shoulder.

“ _ Le Carnaval de Québec est un festival d’hiver où- _ ”

“What are you doing in February?” Tony cuts off his dramatic reading and Steve frowns, tearing his attention away from the event’s colourful home page to meet Tony’s warm gaze.

“School probably,” Steve responds, scrolling idly through the site. His head is right by Tony’s shoulder, catching the smell of coconut and motor oil that seems to cling to the smaller man. “Is reading week in February? We have that too.”

Tony nods, writing the carnival dates on the corner of his notebook followed by 2/14.  The date seems familiar, and it must be important because Tony circles it twice, but Steve can’t put his finger on why. He quickly closes his planner, a blush dusting his cheekbones as he looks up at Steve.

“We need to go grocery shopping sometime closer to the presentation date,” Tony pulls up his calendar on his phone, scrolling through his available days with a small frown. From the quick glance at Tony’s screen that Steve gets, he’s pretty much always busy. Steve is the same way with football practice and art collectives. “Are you free after my engineering class? We can go to Michaels and pick up poster supplies. ”

Steve can probably leave practice early if he pleads with Coach Coulson enough. His strategy for leading has gotten better and the team is looking the best they have all season. He nods and they resolve to meet up then, Tony striding away to his next class as Steve tries not to stare at his ass, barely visible under the hem of his giant hoodie.

Practice seems to go by agonizingly slow now that Steve has something to look forward to afterward. He tries to push his excitement to the side and focus on his team, but he can’t help the ridiculous smile that overtakes his face every time he thinks about Tony. He just hopes no one can tell.

“You thinking about the guy from your French class?” Bucky asks as they break for water.

So much for no one being able to tell, Steve blushes, dropping the football in the grass to grab his gatorade. Steve takes a long swig before capping it and fixing Bucky with a hard stare. “No.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking about him?” Buck needles, following Steve back onto the field where he stretches out his shoulders. “Not thinking about his wide brown eyes? Or the curve of his tight ass? Or the way his pretty lips wrap-”

“Shut up Bucky,” Steve shoves at his friend, his cheeks burning bright red. Bucky laughs and Steve joins in, feeling the tension drop out of his shoulders as he calls the rest of the team onto the field.

Bucky makes a quick detour to the sideline where Sam is sitting as assistant student medic, getting a quick ‘good lick’ kiss from his boyfriend. And yes, Steve does mean good lick because Bucky and Sam don’t believe in luck, they believe in each other. As Steve mentally gags, he kind of hopes for a love like that.

Steve dips from practice early, hurrying into the shower and scrubbing all the grime off him. He does a quick sniff test to make sure he doesn’t smell like sweat before hopping around on one leg to get into his jeans and pulling on his t-shirt. Drying his hair with a towel makes it stringy and frizzy but Steve doesn’t have time to make it look any better as he grabs his bag and runs out of the locker room.

And that’s how Steve finds himself sprinting across the quad for the umpteenth time that week, checking his watch as he races to the science buildings tucked in the back of the campus with the apple orchard and the park.

Tony is just coming out of class, coffee cup in hand and kind smile on his face as Steve comes to a stop at the bottom of the building steps, adjusting his shirt as he tries to catch his breath. Tony is talking to a guy almost as tall as Steve, their shoulders bumping in familiarity as they come down the stairs together, laughs passed between them.

“Hey Steve!” Tony finally notices him, his grin huge as he comes to a stop in front of him. “This is my roommate, Rhodey, he’s studying aerospace engineering.”

So handsome and smart. Aerospace engineering hints a little bit too much of Air Force, which is where it looks like this guy is headed with his big arms and broad chest. Steve straightens up and tries to keep smiling as Tony looks up at his friend. He knows they’re going to be that vine and all Steve will be able to say is ‘and they were  _ roommates. _ ’

Tony elbows him in the side and Steve blinks, remembering he’s supposed to be polite and actually introduce himself. Tony takes over instead, “this is Steve from my French class, we’re going to buy craft supplies.”

“Good luck, that man is serious about his glitter glue,” Rhodey whispers to Steve, laughing as Tony hits him in the shoulder. “Wow those kids made you really grumpy if you’re resorting to hitting.”

“Ugh, just go care bear, don’t keep Carol waiting.” Tony shoos Rhodey off with a flap of his hand, watching at his friend strides across the path without looking back. So, Carol? Was that a mutual friend? A girlfriend? Steve is about to bring it up in the most casual way possible when Tony grabs his arm, tugging him in the direction of the train stop. “Hope you’re ready for the crafting experience of a lifetime,” he jokes, an adorable grin on his face.

“So what did you have in mind for our poster?” Steve asks as he follows Tony down the steps, nose wrinkling at the dank smell of the train stop. This is why he walked everywhere.

“It’s going to be read and white,” Tony sidesteps a mom and her cranky child, as he responds, digging his card out of his pocket.

“For Canada.” Steve nods along, the project coming together in his head. They swipe into the station, heading to the platform for outbound trains. “We’re doing a tri-fold.”

“Yeah, so we can have the project centered around the festival, and talk about food and tradition on either side.” The train pulls into the station and Steve finds himself pressed against Tony in the crowded car. Steve reaches overhead to grab onto the bar and Tony playfully glares at him and his six extra inches before grabbing onto his arm.

Steve wraps his arm around Tony’s waist to keep him steady, tipping his head closer so he can speak without yelling. “Did you find a good poutine recipe?”

Tony looks up at him and that’s when Steve realises they’re inches apart, noses close to touching. He can count every single one of Tony’s lashes, picking out the flecs of gold in his hazel eyes. If the trains jolts, they’ll be kissing and the thought sends shivers down Steve’s spine.

“Yeah. I-”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt gentlemen,” someone interrupts, and Steve jerks away from Tony like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A frail old lady in the priority seat they’re standing in front of shoots them both apologetic looks. “This is my stop.”

The doors slide open and people pour out of the train. Steve steps back with Tony, allowing the woman to get past them. Moving puts them in range of a bar Tony can reach and Steve begrudgingly drops his hand, sliding it into his pocket.

The next station is their stop and they’re quick to push past people, up the stairs and into the sunlight. It’s a brisk walk to the Michaels that they power through in comfortable silence. Steve can’t stop thinking about the subtle dips of Tony’s lower back under his hands.

Once they get into the store, Steve commandeers a red cart- Tony refused the black one- and starts down the aisle for poster board. He picks out a big white one, turning to put it into the cart to find Tony sitting in the basket, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tony pitches his voice deeper, pointing in front of him. “Onwards to the craft supplies, my noble steed.”

“It’s in the other direction,” Steve points out. He hands the tri-fold to Tony, before pushing the cart toward the aisle with construction paper and glitter glue.

Of course, even though he’s only known him for a little over a week he knows Tony wouldn’t be Tony if he didn’t get distracted. And that’s how Steve finds himself in the aisle with the flowers, Tony standing up in the cart, towering over Steve and holding a glittery plastic rose as they both recite Shakespeare.

Tony throws his hand up to his forehead, pretending to swoon, “aye me.”

Steve catches him in his arms, holding him bridal style as Tony lifts the fake rose to his nose, red glitter dusting his cheeks like freckles. The words spill out of his mouth, loud and clear as he pretends to be overcome with love. “O, she speaks, speak again bright angel! For thou-”

“Thou art getting on my nerves,” an employee cuts in from where she’s cleaning up glitter from Tony’s many sparkly roses. She’s a redhead with a fierce gaze that sends shivers down Steve’s spine despite the fact that he’s almost double her size.

Tony turns his head to look at her, a grin breaking out on his face, he waves with the arm that isn’t wrapped around Steve’s neck. “Hey Natasha, I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I don’t,” she says, her lips pursed as she eyes them both suspiciously. “And if you ever tell anyone I do, I’ll kidnap your robot.”

“Dum-E? No!”

“If she’s angry, why would you call her a dummy?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. He takes a step away from the scary lady, grip tightening on Tony. He’s not heavy and Steve is not above booking it out of there.

“No, Dum-E,” Tony traces the letters onto Steve’s chest sending shivers down his spine. He nods in understanding. “He’s my pet robot, you should come visit him sometime.”

Steve nods, carefully setting Tony down on his feet and apologizing to Natasha. 

They get back on track in the scrapbooking aisle and together they pick out stickers and glitter and stamps in varying shades of red, a cute look of absolute delight on Tony’s features as he points at the red and white playdough, eyes pleading with Steve.

They end up getting two-hundred dollars worth of stuff, Tony paying with black plastic before Steve can even pull his worn wallet out of his pocket.

“You didn’t have to,” Steve grunts as he picks up the fifth bag, determined to carry them all in one go. “We could have split half.”

Tony shrugs, sliding his sunglasses on in the dying light and grabbing a bag. “You can pay for an Uber back to campus,” Tony offers, pulling Steve’s phone out of his back pocket.

_ And maybe dinner afterward? _ Steve wants to add, but he doesn’t want to make this messy when being friends is so simple right now. So he nods, arms full of groceries while Tony orders the Uber on his phone.

The driver that picks them up, a smiling man aptly named Happy, takes the bags from Steve to put them in the trunk before holding the door open for both of them. The inside of the car is plush leather and Steve sinks into the seat with a sigh as Tony hands him his phone back. A thrill goes through Steve as Tony sits in the middle, their sides pressed together despite the free seat beside him.

“Where to?” Happy asks grinning at Steve in the rearview mirror.

Steve blinks out of his reverie, realizing that he’s being spoken to. Tony’s faster, rattling off the address for the school library before shooting Steve an amused look. “Ready to get this done?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, trying not to be obvious about leaning into Tony as he shifts in his seat. He tips his head, watching the trees pass outside, painted in brilliant golds and flaming reds as they fly by.

The river is beautiful in the waning sunlight, small sailboats dotting the pristine waters as they bob toward the high banks. Steve can’t wait for winter to paint their city in beautiful shades of white.

All too soon, the Uber is pulling up to the library, Happy helping them unload all their stuff with a grin as Steve tries to remember how he had carried it all in the first place. Tony laughs at his expression grabbing a couple of bags as he tips Happy.

Steve thanks him too before following Tony up the steps and into the quiet of the library, pursing his lips to keep quiet. The librarian tells them all the study rooms are empty so Steve and Tony appropriate a table in a quiet corner of the library, setting out all their project materials. Steve cringes at the crinkling of the plastic bags, turning to find all eyes in the library on him and the ruckus he’s making as he tries to quickly empty out all the bags so he can get rid of the noisy plastic.

Tony snickers at him, somehow managing to silently pull a couple of paint bottles out of a plastic bag. He’s got talent, Steve will give him that. They set everything out on the table, dropping on the couch beside each other.

Steve pulls out his laptop, bringing up the website on the festival and setting it on the table. They set to work with Sharpies and glitter glue, putting together the poster board as the hours tick steadily on.

They accidentally stick their hands together after an ill-timed high-five, laughing at the splat and then laughing even harder as they realize they can’t get free. A few glares and snickers are thrown their way but all in all, Steve thinks it’s pretty hilarious that the pink glitter glue is that strong. A little bit of hand sanitizer gets them free, and Tony grins at him, bright and adorable as he gets back to work gluing pictures onto their project.

“I’m gonna go get a reference book,” Tony whispers sometimes at around nine, shooting Steve a wink before the tall oak stacks swallow him whole. Steve resumes cutting out squares for their subject titles. He’ll probably use the glitter letter stickers to write them out, he just hopes he has the words.

“Fuck,” Tony whisper yells from within the stacks. Steve frowns, he can hear his footsteps, heavy against the carpet. Is he in trouble?

Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as he drops his scissors and starts running toward the row where Tony had gone to find a French dictionary. “Tony?”

Right as he turns the corner Tony slams straight into his chest, Steve’s arms coming up around him with an oof. His friend’s face is white as a sheet as he looks up at Steve, brown eyes wide and terrified.

“Hey?” Steve pitches his voice soft, brushing Tony’s hair out of his face and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. “What’s wrong?” Steve can feel the fast pace of Tony’s heart thrumming in his chest beneath his fingertips.

“Steve, oh my fu-” he cuts off, panting as he looks behind him. “There’s totally a ghost back there,” he insists, brown eyes wide. “I need that fucking reference book...” he trails off looking back at Steve.

“I’ll come with you,” Steve says stepping between the shelves.

Tony crowds around his back, hands at his shoulders as he peers around Steve’s larger frame. “I hope you know that if there is a ghost I’m kicking you in the back of the knees and running for it,” Tony whispers.

“I’ll protect you,” Steve jokes running his fingers over Tony’s hand on his shoulder.

They get to the French section and Tony glances around furtively before picking out the book he needs. Steve turns around to check down the other bookshelf when Tony jumps on his back and he lets out a startled scream. Tony cackles as Steve shakes his head at his friend’s antics.

Sliding his arms under Tony’s legs, Steve readjusts his grip so Tony is comfortably clinging to his back. Tony’s arms come around his neck, book clutched in his hands as he settles his chin on Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve carries him back to their couch setting him down gently before dropping into the seat beside him, their shoulders brushing.

Cracking the book open, Tony leans into Steve’s side, flipping through the pages. Now that the adrenaline from Tony’s scare is wearing off, exhaustion is setting in. He glances at his watch, it’s almost eleven and they still have to finish decorating their poster.

Steve stifles a yawn, grabbing the glitter glue and outlining the title letters in red. Tony is a warm weight against him as he makes a couple of last-minute edits to their grammar and fixes some of the punctuation.

“I think-” Steve yawns. “- I think we should maybe call it a night.”

He doesn’t make it another twenty minutes, falling asleep against Tony’s shoulder.

When Tony gently prods him awake, he rubs his eyes pressing further into Tony’s side with another yawn. Tony grins down at him throwing out the scraps of paper littered around their table. Forcing himself to sit up, Steve starts to put away the stickers and glitter glue trying to blink away the sleepiness.

Steve doesn’t remember much else after that, but he ends the day tucked warmly into bed so he catalogs that as a success.

He doesn’t see Tony until close to midnight the next day when a knock on Steve’s door pulls him out of the comfortable warmth of his bed where he was pretending to be a burrito. Steve shivers as the cold air in the dorm room hits his bare chest, raising goosebumps across his arms. He groans, socked feet shuffling across the floor to pull open his dorm room door with a grumpy huff.

The moment he sees Tony on his doorstep he smiles. His friend looks adorable swaddled in one of Steve’s sweaters, his fingers burrowed in sleeves flecked with paint. Possessiveness wells up in Steve’s chest leaving him with an insatiable desire to pull Tony to his chest and snuggle him.

“Hey,” Steve tries for casual, leaning against his door.

“Sorry for waking you,” Tony mumbles tentatively, twisting his hands in front of him. “Do you mind if I sleep here?” Steve has never seen Tony so hesitant and he’s quick to step aside and let Tony into the room. “Rhodey has his girlfriend, Carol, over and they’re really loud.”

Steve nods glancing at Sam who is dead asleep on his side of the room. Steve’s had his fair share of sexiling from his two best friends. And as close as he is to both of them, he sure doesn’t want to be there when they’re doing the do. He’s glad Tony came to him instead of trying to sleep in the library or outside in the cold.

“I don’t mind sharing,” he shuts the door before crossing the room to flop into bed scooting toward the wall to give Tony room. “I should warn you though, I’m kind of a cuddler.”

“I’m practically an octopus,” Tony laughs, shucking his jeans and tossing over the back of Steve’s desk chair. With his hair a wild halo around his head he slumps into bed beside Steve, the fabric of his sweatshirt soft against his bare skin.

With only one pillow, their faces are inches apart, close enough that Steve can count each of Tony’s sinfully dark eyelashes, pick out the flecks of green in his warm hazel eyes. He holds his breath as Tony’s freezing feet find his under the covers, sending shivers down his spine.

“Goodnight Tony.” Steve stifles a yawn with his arm.

“Goodnight Steve,” Tony whispers, his lashes fluttering shut.

Steve really hoped Rhodey and Carol spent more time together if it meant he got to hold Tony like this.

Waking up with an armful of Tony Stark is the best feeling in the world. Better than making the varsity football team his freshman year. Better than winning his first game of beer pong. Better than acing the first math of the semester without studying. It’s like his own personal designer drug disguised as a curly mop of chocolate hair and the most intense warm brown eyes. 

Steve is lying on his back with the brunet splayed across his chest, cuddling just like he had promised the night before. Tony’s nose is pressed into his jaw and Steve catches a lung full of motor oil and metal as he noses into Tony’s hair with a warm sigh. God, he would give up seventy years of his life to have this one moment.

Sam is eyeing them suspiciously from across the room, one dark brow raised as he glares pointedly at Tony. He makes a series of obscene gestures that would probably make even Bucky blush before pointing at Tony’s discarded jeans on the floor.

With a long-suffering sigh, Steve makes wide eyes at Sam, trying to convey that he and Tony hadn’t slept together but Sam isn’t having it. He finds himself on the receiving end of an exasperated eye roll as Sam grabs his school bag and leaves their dorm, Steve’s shoulders slumping as the door clicked shut behind his roommate.

There is not much he can do about it now. He can try to convince Sam that it had been innocent, but his friend would probably have a lot more fun teasing him. As long as it doesn’t get back to Tony, Steve has no problem with being the butt of the joke.

Steve slides his hand up Tony’s back revelling in the warm weight of his friend on his chest. Light slashes through the open blinds and Steve turns into the warmth letting the light onto his face as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. That’s when his eyes settle on the alarm clock and the red 10:43 blinking at him.

Shit, they’re late for class. He doesn’t want Tony to be upset that he didn’t wake him up.

“Tony?” He whispers trying to rouse him from his sleep, he doesn’t want them to miss class. Tuition is expensive enough. “Tony get up.”

In his arms, Tony shifts, their legs tangling together and wow hello, one part of Tony’s anatomy is definitely more awake than the rest. Steve politely shifts his hips, prodding at Tony’s shoulder with his fingertips.

Lashes fluttering, Tony blinks awake, brown eyes clouded with sleep as his mouth opens in a cute yawn that has Steve swooning. A wide grin is on his face before he can tamp it down. Steve carefully brushes Tony’s locks off his forehead, “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Good morning beloved,” Tony teases, sitting up all the way and swinging his legs off of Steve to stand. With a contented sigh, Tony stretches, his sweatshirt pulling up to display a strip of skin as Steve tries not to drool over his treasure trail.

“You want the bathroom first?” Steve asks as he sits up in bed. Despite the fact that another human being had been sleeping on him, Steve doesn’t feel sore at all as he rolls his shoulders.

“Yeah, I’ll be fast.” Tony disappears into the bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower faucet turning on.

Steve had showered the night before, so he sets to work picking out something to wear. He tries to ignore the fact that Tony is naked in the next room, standing in Steve’s shower probably using his soap. Soft humming comes through the thin walls and Steve grits his teeth trying to focus on his wardrobe.

Tony probably doesn’t care what Steve wears considering his ridiculous outfit when they had first met. Pulling on a pair of sinfully tight jeans and a blue Henley that shows off his arms and complimented his eyes, Steve decides that he’s ready for the day.

What Steve isn’t ready for is Tony, stumbling out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam floating around his head and Steve’s towel wrapped around his waist, droplets clinging to his tan skin. He’s immersed in the journey of a drop of water sliding down the line of Tony’s throat as he says something to Steve.

Shit, he’s saying something to Steve.

“What?” Steve asks dumbly his eyes bouncing up to Tony’s face and urging his brain to focus on the words coming out of his mouth rather than the way his lips wrap around each syllable. Steve wonders if they would look nice wrapped around his—

Tony huffs adorably, rolling his eyes fondly at Steve before asking his question again. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah,” Steve waves at his wardrobe without taking his eyes off Tony to breathe for a second. “You’re welcome to anything in there.”

Tony nods and Steve escapes to the bathroom. There’s not enough blood flowing to his head, he decides as he shuts the door firmly behind him. 

In the safety of the bathroom, Steve grits his teeth, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, if he keeps acting like an idiot, Tony is going to figure out something is up. He splashes his face with cold water to cool down his blush, smoothing down his horrible bedhead, brushing his teeth and flossing. Steve draws the line at cologne though. He stares at the expensive bottle of Gucci Guilty that Bucky left behind the last time he stayed over. It doesn’t take long for Steve to give in to the urge to spritz it across his collarbone.

When he finally emerges from the bathroom looking and smelling great, his breath catches in his throat as his eyes settle on Tony across the room.

Tony is swimming in a massive green cable knit hoodie that Steve’s ma had made him for Christmas one year, digging through Steve’s wardrobe looking for pants. He’s wearing Steve’s favourite pair of purple whale boxers, his hair rumpled and adorable, the curling ends dripping water. All in all, Steve wants to tackle him back into bed and cuddle the fuck out of him. But they’re late for class.

“I’m not wearing your jeans, I’ll look silly,” Tony acknowledges Steve’s staring with a smirk before going back to rummaging through the blond’s closet. “Do you have joggers? Or even shorts or something?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods reaching over Tony’s head to grab a neatly folded pair of sweats off the top shelf of the wardrobe. “Here.”

Tony turns to take them, looking up to grin at Steve. There are only a couple of inches between them, Steve should just close the gap and kiss him like Sam constantly insisted he did.

Holding his breath Steve leans in to Tony’s magnetic pull. Like a rubber band stretched too thin, the moment snaps as Tony bends over to pull the pants up his legs, his head bumping gently against Steve’s chest. Mortified, Steve takes a step back to give him room. That was ridiculous, thinking that Tony was going to kiss him. The brunet would have to actually have a crush on him to be down for that. Steve grabs his bag off his desk, digging through it for his homework.

“Wish me luck with my freshman today,” Tony giggles, interrupting Steve’s thoughts. He flops down on Steve’s bed to pull his converses on and lace them up. “Are we still on for lunch?”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve shoulders his bag, hopping on one foot to slip his own tennis shoes on.

“Thanks for letting me sleep over,” and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Tony leaves in a flurry of movement, the door slamming shut behind him.

Steve thinks about the kiss all morning, the brief press of Tony’s lips lingering in his mind all through his first two classes. Steve is glad he’d made friends in his classes because he is going to have to text them to ask for notes later.

By the time lunch rolls around, Steve is able to stop involuntarily touching his cheek and daydreaming. After grabbing a sandwich box from the commons, Steve meets up with Tony on the steps of the library, taking a seat in a warm patch of sun. A thrill rockets up Steve’s spine as Tony shifts closer, their shoulders brushing.

“How were the monsters?” Steve asks taking a huge bite out of his sandwich.

“Ugh,” Tony throws his hands up dramatically, pretending to faint onto Steve’s shoulder. “Lord take me early.”

Steve laughs, trying to slow the increasing thump of his heart in his chest as he shifts his arm to settle around Tony’s waist. “They can’t have been that bad.”

Running his hands down his face, Tony groans, “They were worse.”

“Well,” Steve chews on his sandwich swallowing thoughtfully before saying, “I would be happy to come visit after my class ends and make it a little more bearable.”

Tony turns to him, head on Steve’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes adorably. “You would face those crazed baby geniuses for me?”

With a laugh, Steve sets his sandwich down to pull Tony into a totally platonic hug. “Of course, you’re my friend.”

“You ready to go grocery shopping?” Tony stands, stretching and Steve averts his eyes to keep from drooling over the tantalizing strip of skin the motion shows off in raising Tony’s shirt.

Steve follows him, brushing his hands off and tossing his trash into the nearby can, nothing but net. Football practice paid off if it meant he was impressing Tony.

They take the train to a small strip of shops a couple streets away from their school, the wind blowing through Steve’s hair as he looks up and down the street.

Small brick buildings line the street, walk ups lined with shops and pretty flowers in window sills. It makes for a pretty picture and Steve wishes he had his camera on him as Tony turns to grin at him, brown eyes glittering.

“There’s a market this way,” Tony says, tilting his head in the direction of a tiny shop with fruit baskets outside. A vendor is sitting under the red awning away from the sun, watching them both as they survey the fruits. There’s a golden retriever lounging at his feet that Tony immediately has to pet, receiving a slobbery kiss in return.

Steve smiles at Tony’s laughter, turning to the shop vendor. “Do you have potatoes?” Steve asks him, reaching down over Tony’s head to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

The vendor points them toward the back of the store and Tony has to do a little bit of bargaining with Tony to get him away from the dog, affection swelling in his chest as Tony pouts, waving goodbye to his new friend. He perks up almost instantly when they get to the vegetable section, six different kinds of potato on display in the small corner of the store.

“How do you feel about these potatoes?” Tony picks up huge golden potatoes, tossing them in the air to test their weight. He grabs a couple more off the shelf. Throwing them all up in the air. “Check this out.”

“Famous last words,” Steve smirks, looking up from where he’d been poking at the sweet potatoes in disinterest. He’s pleasantly surprised when Tony juggles the potatoes, dark brows furrowed in concentration, his lip caught between his teeth.

“Who gives a shit about engineering? I could have been a clown, motherfucker.”

An elderly lady looks up from her squash a little ways down the aisle, a look of absolute horror painted across her features as she literally clutches her pearls. She scurries away without her squash, holding a hand to her head in dismay.

“Tony,” Steve chokes out through his laughter as the brunet catches all the potatoes and sets them back on the stand with a sheepish wave to the vendor who’s now looking at both of them through the window as the lady practically sprints out of the store. “Oh my gosh.”

“You would have loved me as a clown,” Tony replies petulantly, moving to stand beside Steve and survey the sweet potatoes with a disinterested expression.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles indulgently, a blush spreading across his cheeks at the truth ringing through Tony’s statement. Steve would love him anyway.

Holy shit.

Steve loves him.

Once Steve acknowledges the revelation, it’s like he sees his whole life in a new light. The morning coffee dates, the late-night snuggles, the warm feeling in his chest when Tony says his name. It’s like free-falling and flying all at once in desperate weightlessness that Steve can’t get enough of.

Nothing changes, but Steve is okay with that. He’s alright with spending as much time with Tony as possible like a flower soaking in as much sun as it can get. 

It isn’t until the end of the week that Steve is able to see Tony for more than a glimpse in class and a shared smile. His schedule is hectic with midterm papers and football practice for their game Friday night which they win. Tony shows up at the after party, absolutely adorable in a plain white tee and dark wash denim. 

“Hey, Shellhead,” Steve sways throwing an arm around Tony’s shoulder under the flashing lights. Shellhead because Tony is always building robots in the 500 class he teaches. It doesn’t really make any sense but it’s such a funny name. Steve giggles bumping his shoulder against the brunet’s before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that makes Tony giggle adorably. “You wanna dance?”

Tony shrugs and Steve grabs his hand to lead him triumphantly to the makeshift dance floor in the living room. The packed crowd forces them together but Steve can’t care less as he throws his hands up and gyrates to the music thrumming through the speakers.

Somehow it sounds like Pon De Replay and If You Seek Amy at the same time. Fergie and Beyonce are great. Steve sings along, loudly and unashamed, the garbled words sounding fantastic to his ears. Tony has an amused look on his face as he shakes his hips to the beat. Maybe after this Steve will try for American Idol, Tony would fall in love with him for sure. He’s American, Tony jokes that he literally embodies patriotism and apple pie, the idol part would come eventually.

“This is my jam,” Steve yells over the ruckus of the crowd because Tony must know how good Lady Gaga..? Or was it Britney Spears? Whatever they all sound great. He sways his hips pumping his fists around in a dance Steve only feels confident doing while shitfaced. He’ll probably regret it in the morning, but right now he all he wants to do is dance with his crush.

“I can tell,” Tony laughs and Steve grins. The genius knows him so well, he is so lucky to have such a good best friend. He and Tony are going to be best friends forever and ever. A stupid smile eclipses Steve’s face and he doesn’t even care that he probably looks ridiculous.

Dropping his hands to Tony’s hips, he pulls the brunet closer to avoid a stray elbow heading their way from a dude who’s really throwing it down. When the danger passed, Steve felt his chest swell with pride, he protected Tony from the mean and horrible elbow, all the horrible things in the world were vanquished by Steve’s bravery. He deserves a handkerchief for accomplishing such a feat. Or better yet, a kiss from his beloved.

Tipping his head against Tony’s he takes a deep inhale of beer and leather. Tony smells sweet, like popsicles and ambrosia. Maybe not a kiss right this second. Steve moves to his neck, sticking his tongue out, intent on getting a taste of Tony’s skin.

“Woah there,” Tony shifts his shoulder, catching Steve’s jaw in his hand, tongue still out. He grins disarmingly, catching Steve’s gaze. “Hey there, you’ve got your head in the clouds, don’t you Winghead?”

“Might have had too much to drink,” Steve admits, smiling lazily. It’s okay if he doesn’t get a taste of Tony. Maybe he’ll cut his losses and go back for a kiss instead. “Wanna make out-?“

Shit,” Tony drops his hand, and Steve frowns looking down at where his fingers are splayed across Steve’s chest, clutching at his shirt in what feels like legitimate anxiety. Steve suddenly feels a lot more sober, muscles tense as he scans the crowd for whatever threat has Tony freaking out. “Shit, Ty just walked in.”

“Ty?” A growl rumbles in Steve’s throat and he turns ready to give Tony’s ex a piece of his mind. What kind of idiot cheated on a guy as adorable and sweet and charming as Tony? He was probably a supervillain or something. Steve rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, getting ready to crack his knuckles and challenge that asshole to a dance-off or something, snapping fingers and all.

“Steve, kiss me, please.”

That derails his attention hella quick. He turns back to Tony in time to catch an armful of his best friend as Tony hitches his legs around his waist kissing him for all he’s worth. Tony’s hands slide around his neck and for the first time, Steve has to tilt his head up to kiss someone.

Not one to be an idle participant, Steve moves his hands up Tony’s back, licking across his lips with a quiet groan as he kisses Tony soundly. He tastes amazing, like coconut chapstick and cheap beer as Steve sucks on his plump bottom lip.

Maybe Tony likes him back. Maybe this kiss is the first of many. Steve’s heart swells, his fingers curled in the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck, soft against his skin. He could stay in this moment, with Tony held in his arms, completely relying on Steve to not let him fall.

Tony is the first to pull away, eyes fluttering open as he looks down at Steve. Immediately his gaze is over Steve’s shoulder, probably looking to see if Ty saw him kiss Steve. “Sorry about that.”

Feeling like the biggest fool on the planet, Steve’s brows furrow. Normally people didn’t apologize when they kissed someone they liked. Unless... Steve’s heart caught in his chest. Tony didn’t like him back.

The realization has the same effect as drinking twelve cups of coffee at once. Steve is instantly sober, the fun of the music dimming with his desire to dance. Carefully he leans forward to gently set Tony back on his feet, pulling his hands away as if Tony’s skin burns.

God, this is humiliating. His cheeks burn in mortification and anger at himself. How could he let himself believe Tony actually loves him. He should just save himself the heartbreak and transfer schools now.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” Steve points a thumb over his shoulder, his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots. Knowing Tony doesn’t like him is much worse than the fear of not knowing whether Tony likes him or not. He just wants to turn back the clock and pretend this never happened.

Confused, Tony grabs on to Steve’s hand. “You’re drunk, I’m not letting you head back alone, I’ll come with.”

Steve sighs, one part of him wants to refuse and stumble back to his dorm in his shame on his own. The other part of him had taken the Alcohol Seminar and knew Tony was just trying to be a good friend. He tries to ignore the way his chest aches for Tony to be near him, even though it’s the last thing his brain wants.

The walk back to the residence halls is silent, Tony’s shoulder brushing his as they cut across the quad in the cool night air. The wind blows across Steve’s cheeks rubbing them rosy as he buries his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. At least Steve has his varsity jacket and team hoodie. Tony is shivering in thin cotton as he sets a brisk pace.

Steve pulls off his coat, setting it on Tony’s shoulders. Just because he’s upset with himself, doesn’t mean he has to take it out on Tony. He shoots Tony a forced smile, shoving his hands in his pocket to avoid running them over Tony’s tiny shoulders in his jacket.

“Thank you,” Tony whispers sliding his arms through the sleeves of Steve’s jacket and pulling it tighter around his small form. He looks at Steve uncertainly through his lashes before focusing on his feet and heading toward their dorm. He’s suspiciously quiet, but Steve chalks that up to him seeing his ex and follows him into their building.

They both step into the elevator together, hitting their respective floors. Steve stands in the back, Tony’s shoulders brushing his as he stands beside him. It’s weird that they’re touching in an elevator that can comfortably fit ten people. Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye, heart in his throat.

The ding of the elevator breaks through the awkward silence and Tony steps out, pausing in the door.

“I’ll see you on Monday in French?” Tony turns to ask, a weird tinge to his voice like he’s bracing for rejection. Steve meets his eyes to find an uncertain look on his face, foreign with his features. 

Steve takes a deep breath, nothing has to change. He forces a smile, nodding at Tony.

His friend’s shoulders slump curiously before he turns on his heel to walk to his door. That’s when Steve sees the Rogers printed in capitals across his back and remembers that Tony is wearing his jacket. A possessive thrum echoes through his chest and Steve wants it to be so real so badly.

The doors slide open on his floor and Steve steps out, pulling out his keys to shove open his door and flop onto his bed face first with a high whine.

“Stevie, what the fuck?” Bucky full on moans breathlessly and Steve feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Why aren’t you still out celebrating? You know, so we can be here celebrating.”

“I’m too drunk for this,” Steve groans, covering his ears. “I’m going to head to the library.” He reaches blindly for his bag on the floor, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Steve is still looking as he hears some shuffling on Sam’s side of the room before Bucky’s prosthetic hand is on his shoulder, “Steve? Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Steve responds, refusing to open his eyes, “everything is going just swell, I got super drunk at a party, and Tony kissed me, and I saw him wearing my jacket and I really hope you’re not naked and touching me.”

“We’re both fully clothed.” Steve blinks up at Bucky to see him in a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, his chest bare and littered with love bites. Steve wrinkles his nose, averting his gaze. At least Sam put on a shirt.

“Wait, back it up,” Sam holds his hands up swinging his legs out of bed to sit beside Steve. He smells like Bucky’s cologne and Steve wonders if Tony smells like him because he’s wearing his jacket. “You’re telling me that Tony kissed you? Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Steve studies his fingers, wringing them in his lap as he avoids his friends’ gazes. “He only kissed me because his ex showed up at the party.”

“That’s absolute bullshit,” Bucky declares his arms crossing over his chest.

“That fucking dweeb,” Sam growls at the same time looking ready to head out the door and find Tony himself.

“Guys,” Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, he doesn’t like me, he made it pretty clear.”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head. Steve opens his mouth to protest and Bucky smacks a hand over his lips. “No shut up, we’re not doing this whole angsty slow burn, the author is a stressed college student with no time for that shit.”

“Excuse me?” Steve mumbles through Bucky’s fingers, his brows pulled low over his eyebrows in confusion. Sometimes his best friend acts kind of weird but this blows right past absurd and straight to crazy town. “I think you lost your last brain cell.”

“We’re going to skip over this miscommunication and pining. You’re going to spend the night in Tony’s dorm and I am going to rail Sam and we’ll both get our happily ever afters.” Bucky drops his hand, grabbing Steve’s bag, handing it to him, and pushing him out the door into into the hall. “Have a nice night.”

Steve is clutching his bag in the hallway as the door slams behind him, echoing down the hall. Well, he could always just sleep in the common room. He doesn’t want to make Tony uncomfortable by asking to share a bed, especially after that kiss from earlier. Maybe he could borrow a blanket though.

He jogs down the stairs to Tony’s floor, heart in his throat and fingers white-knuckled over his backpack straps as he gently taps on the door. “Tony?”

The door opens and Tony looks up at him, cheeks immediately going red. He’d changed into athletic shorts and a worn school shirt before putting Steve’s jacket on top. Tony grins sheepishly. “Hey Steve, what can I do for you?”

“Bucky and Sam kicked me out, can I borrow a blanket?” Steve leans against the door frame, the events from the day really taking it’s toll now that the alcohol was well and truly wearing off. He had gotten tackled a couple of times on the field and as his adrenaline was dying, he started to feel the purple press of the bruises.

Tony’s brows furrow as he steps back. “Why don’t you just sleep here?” He asks, ushering Steve into his room. “Rhodey and Carol skipped town for the weekend and the room is too quiet.”

“Thank you,” Steve steps in, dropping his bag by Tony’s desk.

Steve’s never been in their dorm before. Rhodes’ side of the room is immaculate, bed made and desk neat. Tony, on the other hand, is a little all over the place, floor littering with tools and desk stained with oil, metal littered across the surface. The juxtaposition is weird but somehow it works, the mix of the two of them. Steve can see why they’re best friends. Tony helps Rhodes have fun and Rhodes keeps Tony out of trouble.

Flopping onto his bed, Tony scootches toward the wall, waiting for Steve to join him. He looks a lot younger like this, messy curls falling in his eyes and the sheen of alcohol wearing off.

With a sigh, Steve slides under the comforter, socked toes finding Tony’s bare feet under the sheets.

Tony waits until he’s settled in before speaking, his voice soft and hesitant in the dark. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” Steve is quick to reassure him, cheeks burning as he thinks about how into it he had been. “It’s okay.”

“So,” Tony trails off, shifting so their arms are touching. “We’re cool?”

Steve nods, warmth settling in his chest as he turns his head into Tony’s pillow. “Yeah, we’re cool.” This was as close to dating as Steve would get with him, so he was grabbing on tight with both hands and embracing it for as long as he could.

Making fries the next day is an absolute disaster. Tony was in charge of the potatoes and Steve was in charge of the gravy. It seemed simple enough, until Tony accidentally spilled vegetable oil on the tile and didn’t tell Steve when he went to go get paper towels to clean it up. Steve had taken one step into the kitchen and slipped, clocking himself over the head with the pot he had been holding to make the gravy in. Tony, who had just walked into the kitchen with the towels had burst out laughing, helping Steve up and kissing it better.

“I still can’t believe you slipped,” Tony giggles, an hour later while chopping potatoes at the counter.

Steve huffs, letting the broth for the gravy simmer. “I can’t believe you spilled vegetable oil and didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah, well- shit.” Tony drops the knife, bringing his finger to his mouth.

Abandoning the broth, Steve rushes over to make sure he’s okay, turning on the tap and directing Tony’s hand under the spray. The incision is small, but Tony whines as Steve carefully rinses the cut out.

“Are you okay?” Concern colours Steve’s voice as he holds up Tony’s thumb so he can look at it closer.

Tony smiles, mischevious as he looks from his thumb back to Steve. “It would feel better with a kiss.”

Steve laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of Tony’s hand like a princess instead of his cut thumb. “There you go, all pain has vanquished.” 

The rest of the cooking goes smoothly, Steve takes over the cutting and Tony handles the arduous task of supervising. He sits on the counter distracting Steve with memes and the tantalizing swing of his legs. The fries come out perfectly though, so Steve doesn’t really mind.

Despite the fact that they don’t study, their presentation goes smoothly. Tony’s got a talent for spewing bullshit and Steve’s charming smile only furthered their credibility. The poutine was a hit too, enough students coming up for seconds that they ran out twenty minutes into the class period.

Tony comes to Steve’s dorm after his class to hang out and do homework. Sam shooting Steve a look before disappearing out the door for Sports Med training. That had been hours ago and the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon, a yawn pushing past Steve’s lips as he powers off his laptop.

“I can’t believe we got an A,” Tony looks down at their posterboard in disbelief as he crams a couple of extra fries into his mouth. He’s spinning himself dizzy in Steve’s desk chair, chocolate curls an adorable halo around his head. Steve would give anything to stop the chair and plant an equally dizzying kiss on his lips.

Steve watches him from where he’s stretched out on his bed, fingers flying across the keys of his laptop as he navigates to Netflix. “I knew we could do it. I think your juggling skills really sold it all.”

Tony nudges Steve’s shoulder with his foot, a laugh bubbling past his lips. “Shut up,” he grins adorably, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You and I both know it was your amazing cooking skills that got us our A. The class loved your homemade fries recipe.”

“I’ll make them for you anytime,” Steve grins down at his hands, loving the thought of cooking for Tony. Tying an apron around Tony’s small waist, trading smiles over the countertop, having ridiculously messy food fights that end up with even messier makeouts, He wants it so badly. He looks up at Tony with a grin.

Steve averts his gaze as Tony stands and stretches, the movement flashing a tantalizing strip of skin across his hips. With a yawn he heads towards Steve’s bathroom. “I’m taking a shower, can you order the pizza?”

“Sure thing,” Steve responds, grabbing his phone off his desk.

Just as Tony gets into the bathroom, Sam comes through the door with Bucky in tow, heads pressed together as they share a laugh. It’s almost like Steve isn’t there as he dials the number to the pizza place and orders Tony’s favourite, the meat-za.

“Wow Stevie,” Bucky grins knowingly as Steve hangs up, perceptive eyes clocking in the running shower and Tony’s backpack by Steve’s bed. “No veggies for the growing boy tonight?”

Steve shrugs, a blush rising to his cheeks as he scratches the back of his head. “It’s useless, Tony just picks them off anyway.”

It’s actually kind of cute if Steve is being honest. He wrinkles his nose adorably as he moves all the vegetables to the side of his plate for Steve to eat. There was one time he hand fed Steve a bell pepper, his teeth grazing Tony’s fingertips, sending shivers down his spine. He shakes himself out of the memory, focusing on his roommate and his best friend.

Sam laughs as he flops down on his bed, digging through the comforters. “Why is your other half showering here, by the way?”

“He came over to hang out,” Steve responds with a shrug. “We’re probably going to watch some Netlix. We aced our French presentation.” He gestures at his screen before focusing back on his laptop to pick a show. He would probably go for Drake and Josh, Tony always needs a good laugh. He sure has a beautiful one that Steve would love to hear more.

“Do your Netflix plans include any chilling?” Bucky asks, stopping Steve in his search for a second tv show. “He clearly likes you back, you idiots could be dating right now. Or at least banging on the regular.”

Steve’s cheeks burn even hotter as he eyes the bathroom door. God, if Tony walks in right now, Steve wouldn’t even know what to say. Honestly, Steve is contemplating the two-story drop if he jumps out the window. Anything to exit stage right on this uncomfortable conversation.

“I don’t think he likes me back,” Steve mumbles. The words burn in his throat as he says them aloud, scraping over his tongue and tumbling like rocks across his teeth.

It’s kind of incredible how Sam and Bucky roll their eyes in unison with matching sighs. Like they’ve practiced, and Steve wouldn’t put it past them. Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s, as if gently breaking news to him. “We all saw the pictures from the party last night where you guys kissed. You even had your hand on his ass.”

“He was in my arms, I was keeping him from falling,” Steve deflects, his cheeks burning with the force of his blush. “Besides, you know he only kissed me to make his ex jealous.”

“He could have chosen to kiss any other fella at that party to fake kiss and he still chose you.” The words sound so meaningful coming out of Bucky’s mouth as he looks up at Steve with earnest grey eyes. He looks away, biting his lip. Bucky did have a fair point.

“Tell him you love him,” Sam says from the other side of the room. He’s on Bucky’s bed digging between the mattress and the wall. He makes a triumphant noise as he finally digs a thin box out, shaking it delightedly. He flips the flap open and pulls a cherry flavoured condom out.

“Ew,” Steve’s nose wrinkles as he watches the wolfish grin spreading across Bucky’s lips, delight dancing across his features as he watches Sam do a victory dance. There’s an unconditional kind of love dancing in Bucky’s eyes too but he tries to ignore it, too sad to think about how he probably looks at Tony that way.

“You’ll probably need one of these too Cap,” Sam wiggles his eyebrows suggestively before throwing a blueberry flavoured condom at Steve’s head. It bounces off, hitting the bedding with a plasticky thwack.

Steve’s about to protest when Bucky cuts him off with bubbling laughter. “Good luck tonight,” he teases slipping an arm around Sam’s shoulder and tucking the box into his pocket as he grabs his keys.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Sam says over his shoulder, coupled with an over-exaggerated wink. The two of them laugh as they head out, the door slamming shut behind them and leaving Steve blessedly alone.

“Were Bucky and Sam just in here?” Tony asks, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is fluffy and towel-dried, curling adorably around his face.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, averting his eyes as Tony drops his towel and picks through Steve’s drawers for a hoodie. “They left for the night.”

Tony makes an affirmative noise, and when Steve looks up he accidentally catches a glimpse of Tony’s backside before it’s covered in Steve’s athletic shorts. A blush burns across his face as he thinks about how the smooth skin will look under his fingers. His hands are huge, but it looks like Tony has enough for more than a handful.

“Gonna ditch me to get lucky tonight?” Tony askes, bringing Steve out of his thoughts before he can tent his shorts. Tony nods at the condom on the sheets before tossing it on the bedside table and slipping into bed beside Steve.

“Bucky and Sam were just being idiots,” Steve responds with a sigh, fluffing the pillows before he settles in beside Tony. He pulls the blanket over their legs, as he sets the laptop on his lap. Carefully, he slides an arm around Tony, trying not to be weird about inhaling the smell of Steve’s Irish soap and the distinct hint of motor oil that was uniquely him.

“Drake and Josh?” Tony asked as he snuggles closer to Steve, setting his head on the blond’s broad shoulders. “I love this show.”

“Me too,” Steve whispers with a sigh as he hits play on the first episode.

Steve’s not really paying attention to where the baby went or the sneak that Megan is. Instead, his brain is totally occupied with the warm weight of Tony against him, his chest moving slowly with each breath and hitching just slightly when he finds something amusing.

It’s hours later when Steve is stuffed full of pizza with Tony relaxing on him that it happens.

“Hey,” Tony whispers from where he’s settled on Steve’s chest. “You wanna go out for burgers and catch a movie?”

Steve’s brain short circuits. No way those words just came out of Tony’s mouth. He remembers them, from the day they first met, desire swelling warmly in his chest. He eyes the brunet finding hope swirling in his coffee-colored gaze. Steve remembers that there’s something else he’s supposed to be remembering, but he can’t remember what. 

“I told you if you asked me I would say yes.”

Tony laughs, light and high as he buries his face in Steve’s pecs. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Because it really was that simple.

***

Steve is late to Photography class the next day, finding it hard to get out of bed when a naked sleepy Tony is clinging to him and begging him to stay with lips that taste like blueberry and Steve’s marks across his neck.

He pulls on a pair of jeans and two different coloured socks, stepping into his converse.

“Steve,” Tony groans from where he’s stretched like a starfish across Steve’s bed. “I’m not going to be able to walk to my 500.”

With a laugh, Steve leans over to slot a kiss against his lips, like another puzzle piece falling into place. “I’ll give you a piggy back ride, okay?”

Tony nods and Steve grabs his bag. About to run out the door when Tony calls his name. “Yes, dear?” Steve asks, stopped in the doorway.

“You need a shirt, babe,” Tony giggles and Steve looks down at the red lines scored down his chest because yes, he did in fact forget to put on a shirt. “What would I do without you?” Steve asks, the words muffled in the hoodie he picks up off the floor. It smells like Tony and he shivers grabbing his bag again and running out the door.

Sometime between when he first did this and now, the leaves had fallen off the trees, cold biting at Steve’s cheeks as he sprints across the quad, dodging annoyed seniors and stubborn pigeons.

He gets to class right as Professor Sheldon is about to close the door, eyeing Steve’s appearance before rolling his eyes with a snort.

Steve drops down into the desk beside Peter shooting the kid a wave. The younger boy takes one look at Steve before turning beet red, ducking his head into the collar of his denim jacket.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks as Professor Sheldon starts his lesson at the front of the class.

Peter shoots him a look before gesturing at his neck. “You have a little something here,” he whispers.

Steve pulls out his phone, turning on his front facing camera and sure enough, he looks like a bear mauled him on his way to class, hickies spotted down his neck and across his jaw. He winces, a finger coming up to poke at the tender skin. Bucky was sure going to tease him about this later.

“Alright class,” Professor Sheldon addresses the room. “I’ll be taking assignments now.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’d been forgetting.

“Oh no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://starksnack.tumblr.com/) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/starksnack/).


	2. Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [zainab_jasmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zainab_jasmine/pseuds/zainab_jasmine)

  


**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](https://starksnack.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/starksnack/).


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